Letters to Fred
by catalougedreams
Summary: Following Harry's advice, George writes a couple of letters to Fred to describe how he feels about the events that have occurred. Two-shot. Post book 7
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own Harry Potter and/or the characters.**

**Well, wrote this for my creative writing assessment for English and got an A so I thought I'd publish it on here and see what you guys think! :) Enjoy!**

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Dear Fred,

How to start?

Should I start by saying how much this is killing me? Or how every time mum sees me, she bursts into tears? It rained at your funeral. It's as if the sky is crying along with me, it's agreeing that what's happened is wrong. I couldn't bear to stay at your funeral; the hollow space in my chest seems to grow bigger and bigger with each minute I spent standing there, staring into the hole they call a grave.

It's just not fair.

I'm at your grave whilst writing this. The wind is whistling through the gap in my head. I feel so isolated, religiously suffering. Get it Fred? I'm Holey!

It's so dark. I feel Darkness encircling me feels like it suffocating me. So claustrophobic. It's like Darkness is closing his cold hand around my throat...

I know there are animals all around this garden but I can hear no birds. It isn't exactly comforting; it makes me feel lonelier than ever. Although it's windy I can't feel it, all I feel is numbness, as if I've been frozen. My mouth is dry, it's as if I have no tears left. Beneath your grave is a canopy of trees. Red, orange and brown are the assortment of colours that lie under the tree stumps. When I squint at the trees they look like guardians: here forever to guard where you lie but it just reminds of the **evil** army closing in on us on that dreadful day. Some of the trees, giant oaks, look silhouetted though the mist and they don't look real. The mist is getting thicker and thicker and I can hardly see. Could this be like my memories, slowly fading away through time?

Anyway, sorry about this. I was meant to be cheerful, zealous even but... I don't think it's working, all I'm feeling inside is wretchedness.

IT'S JUST SO UNFAIR!

My other half is gone, and it literally feels that way. Half of me died with you, and as much as I'm trying to stay strong for Mum and Dad and everyone, I don't know how much longer I can really hold on. It's only been a week, but it feels like a lifetime. Why is everybody celebrating? Why aren't they mourning you? You at least deserve that Fred.

The emptiness is eating away inside me yet it feels like I haven't eaten in weeks, months even. Every time I close my eyes, I still hear the whisper of spells surge around the hall and I still see your stone cold body lying motionless on the floor. Even when I open my eyes, the memory echoes around this eerie place.

I've been watching some orange leaves for a while now, dancing some kind of comic dance together, and conspiring against the other leaves. Then they stop, fall and rest on your grave. They look like they're holding hands. But eventually their link will break and they will decay, like everything.

Gryffindors are meant to be brave, strong, chivalrous. Those words don't come to mind when I sit here, reminiscing about all our pranks. Do you miss me? Do you ever think of me? Do you wish you were still here with me? Do you remember the good times we shared? I do. Every day.

CRASH!

That's what goes through my head every time I think of you, the guilt, the sadness, the injustice...

The leaves are still holding hands. Above them, the leaves are chattering away on the trees when the wind visits them: they're unaware that soon they'll fade away. But even as the seasons change, I'll never forget you. Well, I think I need to go back now; they're still celebrating and mum will wonder where I am. It's so wrong. Just so wrong. You should be here.

I'll leave this letter here, next to the leaves. They can guard it from garden gnomes.

Your partner in crime,

George.


	2. Chapter 2

**Again, I do not own Harry Potter and/or the characters**

**Second bit, please read and review! **

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Dear Forge,

I'm back again. I've brought some stuff from the shop; I'll leave it on your grave.

It's our first Christmas without you and as I still look in the mirror, I notice you every time.

Will you laugh at me if I say this? You probably would, it is you we're talking about but... Sometimes I can hear your laugh shout across the trees as the wind passes through. It's quite scary; but oddly comforting at the same time.

Me without you. How do I explain that? It's like a car without wheels, like a computer without memory, a hot air balloon without air. All of those things.

It hurts to swallow. I can taste the guilt of how I should have been fighting there with you.

At home so many things are happening and not just to me but all of us. It is our first Christmas without you and even though we're trying to have a good time, we still notice that someone's missing. At the Burrow, you can smell so many different things! The food mum cooked looks delicious and the spices in the air are a little intoxicating but I get by. We used to joke about that, remember? On the windowsill are short little candles, they form a circle like they're all friends celebrating a wonderful event. Though the food is tasty to the others, all I can taste is bitterness mixed in. It's quite bittersweet because you should be here, celebrating, yet I can remember all the good times...

Ron pulled a cracker before and I almost jumped out of my Christmas jumper. It sound so much like the explosion you were caught in when you-

Mum says I should let go now. But what does she know? Yes, she lost a son but I've lost my brother, my twin, my other half...

Anyway, Christmas. When I feel the weight of the presents, it isn't the thrilling feeling of guessing what it is. They all seem...empty. The Pain that's warped itself around my chest is starting to loosen up. It's less of the sharp pounding Pain that has been attacking my heart for quite a while. I think that's a good thing. But that might mean I'll forget...I don't know if I should get on with my life or just be a living zombie, walking around forever. That way, I'll never forget you. But if I do move on, you'll still be in my mind.

Your partner in crime,

Gred.


End file.
